We are under enormous, Moominlike quantities of snow. It’s well over Miss Kit’s head, and her outings are somewhat desperate, but she still won’t use her tray. I hope she’s crapping in the house somewhere, because she certainly isn’t doing it outside. The whole thing is ludicrous. I’ve postponed Monday’s teaching — fortunately two of the three classes are due to end before the end of term so I can just bump them on a week, and I’ve thought of a way of rejigging the third. Even my ever reliable local bus isn’t working — Miss T, who’d been staying over with the boyfriend, ended up marooned in Aberdeen and her dad had to go and get her. For our part, we are supposed to have the Professor’s ex-ambassador friend coming on Monday, when the police are advising everyone not to travel. The Ambassador is of Norwegian ancestry, and at times like this, the Viking comes to the fore. ‘I think I’ll just set out and see what happens’, he said. Well, he does have a big strong car. We’ll hope for the best.